Snapshots in the Life of a Former Slave
by Aka Pine
Summary: Snippets in the life of Fenris once he meets a Mage Hawke. Mostly humor, slight crack eventual, and some disregard to game mechanics.
1. Chapter 1

**_*sighs* You'd think I'd finish something one of these days instead of taking on more work/play..._**

**_Another Dragon Age 2 fic, only with humor. There will be angst (this IS Fenris we're talking about) but mostly humor. _**

**_Warnings: Spoilers if you haven't played the game (I'm still working on it myself). I'm not going to use a whole lot of game dialogue; if you want that, play the game or look up the wiki. There is slight Fenris abuse in this chapter (of the humorous kind). My Hawke is somewhat ambiguous appearance wise, but she is a Mage. This is a way to try to show why I think I ended up with full friendship with Fenris even though my Hawke has sparkly fingers. Rating is currently T for implied violence, but will go up for graphic violence/sexy times(maybe) later on. Also, I will take liberties with the game universe. I was ticked when I saw that you could only specialize in Force, Healing, or Blood Magic, for example. I was also miffed at the lack of grey choices/compromises. Since this is fan fiction, I will play around with it a little. _**

**_One last warning: I have an odd sense of humor, in case you haven't read my other works._**

**_Critiques are appreciated and welcomed, flames are ignored unless you have a good point, and begging for updates will most likely not make me post any faster. I'm working on several other fics at the moment, so it might be some time before I update this one._**

**_Other than that, enjoy!_**

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><p>Fenris would have you (and himself) believe that he is a simple man, with simple means and simple flaws. Yes, he had a few expensive tastes, but could you really begrudge him a few bottles of wine every once in a while? Considering what he probably started out with, he thought spending a few coin now and again to celebrate his fortune wasn't pushing his luck too much.<p>

So he could be forgiven for mistaking his current company for being all warriors or rogues. He had had a long night of stalking, waiting, and finally rushing to try to rescue the poor fools who had taken his bait from the slavers who were frantically trying to get him back to his former master before the old coot died of a stress-induced aneurysm.

He arrived in the nick of time to prevent a larger ambush, and made a rather snazzy entrance (if he did say so himself) to the raised eyebrows of his current company. A red-head from the city guard, a young man with a sour look on his face, a beardless dwarf with a cross-bow, and _her_ with her handy staff and hooded features all gaped at him as he discreetly tried to shake off the blood from his gauntlets. It probably didn't make such a good first impression to have blood dribbling down your leg from the meaty remains of your enemy's heart. Oops.

He introduced himself, sheepishly offered his apologies for the deception and received their names in turn. Varric was the dwarf, a storyteller apparently. The ginger woman was Aveline of the City Guard. The sour-looking young man was Carver, who was the brother of the other woman who went by her surname only: Hawke.

He enlisted their help without much fanfare, much to his surprise, and they proceeded to his old master's estate forthwith. He did not speak very much, but he did manage to catch a few snatches of conversation behind him as his new companions followed him to Hightown. It was…interesting, to say the least.

"So, Carver," the dwarf said at one point. "How should I describe you in the story? Heroic and handsome? Dark and brooding? How should I spin it?"

"You'll spin it whichever way you wish, no matter what I say. Like you always do about my lovely sister."

"Hey, Hawke is interesting enough without embellishments. She's tall, beautiful, witty, charm-"

"Enough about my sister! Let's focus on the task at hand!"

After defeating a group of would-be thugs in the marketplace, Fenris picked up on the women chatting quietly.

"Honestly, didn't they ever wonder what happened to the thugs who were here before them?" Hawke asked as she dug through the clothing of a man she had downed with a few hard knocks to his head.

"Perhaps if you made a sign for them, they wouldn't keep using the same tactic every time we come through here," the guardswoman chuckled.

"And give up our main source of income? Are you mad, woman?"

"It wouldn't be our main source if you took actual legitimate jobs Hawke. The guard is always looking-"

"Me? In the guard? Keep that up and Carver will be singing and dancing the rote jig to save the orphans. That's as likely as me making it into and being a good guard. Besides, the uniforms don't flatter me one bit."

For the time, they seemed like good people, Fenris reasoned. He had offered to compensate them with the small funds that he had, but the leader, Hawke, had ignored the offer. Strange, considering her current financial situation. Even the richest humans would normally jump at the idea of-

"Oh, Aveline! Lookie, this one had a bag of semi-precious gems! If I sell that, I'll probably have just enough to buy that new staff I saw on display the other day at the market!"

Then again, maybe her generosity wasn't the only reason for the current strain on her funds.

The only other problem that they had was actually finding Danarius' mansion. Fenris had not exactly lied when he said he knew where his former master lived- he just wasn't sure how to get there.

"I don't understand this city at all," he grumbled to the woman beside him. "In Tevinter, there were at least different monuments or different colored buildings to mark the way. All the houses here look the same."

"It's a protective measure against would-be invaders," Hawke said.

Fenris turned to stare at her, not sure what to make of that comment. "Is that so?"

The hooded woman shrugged, ducking her head but not before Fenris saw a small upturned curve to her lips. "Well, it would be if I had designed the city myself. Honestly, I think the architectures were drunk, or idiots. Or both, given the Hanged Man's reputation."

Despite himself, Fenris smirked. Maybe this venture wouldn't be so bad after all.

They arrived (eventually) and set to work. Each room that proved empty of Danarius made Fenris angrier, and more frustrated. Shades and other traps awaited, but they did nothing to alleviate his feelings. Instead of keeping it to himself, he let it out, calling to Danarius, mocking him and threatening the magister.

It wasn't until he received a rather sharp rap to the head with a staff after a nasty battle with a group of Shades that he realized that some of his companions might not like his vocal bravado.

"Will you shut up!" Hawke hissed, ignoring the baleful look Fenris was giving her. "If you want to get him, we should get him unawares! Otherwise he'll escape or he'll set off more-"

A group of Rage Demons, led by a Greater Rage Demon, popped up once the echoing of Fenris' shout died away.

"-traps."

It wasn't until that battle that Fenris realized he was in the company of a mage. He had to give her credit for being subtle; most of the magic users he had come across were either Blood Mages, or the Elemental Mages, neither of which were very subtle nor quiet branches.

His first clue was when a Demon charged him, and his sword suddenly hissed as frost appeared on the blade. He didn't really have time to think on this curious development, and instead focused on the fight. He downed the fiery demon in record time.

His second clue was when he noticed that Hawke was surrounded. He charged forward, intent on helping the woman, only to watch in amazement as the group of demons around her staggered, stunned. She then proceeded to beat the nearest one over its' molten head.

"Huh, looks like Hawke ran out of manna again," Varric chuckled from behind Fenris, aiming carefully with his crossbow before nailing a demon in the forehead with a bolt.

"She beats things over the head when she runs out of power?"

"Yep. She's been saving up for this neat staff that not only channels a mage's powers, but also has a built in blade on the end of it. She could stab and slash instead of bash. Heh, that rhymed. I'm losing my touch! No one takes poets seriously."

Fenris tuned him out after that, and the group finished the fight.

He was intent on Danarius, he was going to be just behind that door, the last door that hadn't been opened in this Maker forsaken mansion-

Nothing. Just books, wine, and a roaring fire that stated someone _had_ been there, recently, but had flown.

He swallowed his disappointment as he followed the others outside. He had been so close…

The first thing he did was mention Hawke's magic, which got him a wary look of caution, which was better than he expected. Flying into a blood-thirsty rage, up until that point, had seemed a likely reaction. That she was standing there, waiting for him to continue, gave her a small point in her favor in his mind. She was no slave to a demon or to her emotions was apparent thus far.

When questioned, she stated that she was only using her magic to survive.

"Oh? Not entertaining thoughts of grabbing power and helping out your fellow mages in their confinement?"

Hawke pulled her hood back, exposing her face to him for the first time. He stilled, taking in her features. There was no debating that she was a beautiful woman. Yet it was her eyes that captured his attention; eyes that shone brilliantly, almost like the spirit of a stern warrior goddess he had heard in legends.

"The Circle has its' place in this world, as do the Templars. Some people just need to be locked away. Others can survive outside the Circle, and can do the world more good than they would had they been locked up."

"Are you one of those privileged few then?" he asked sharply.

She offered him a sad smile. "I was born an apostate, not made one. And yes," she added, tilting her chin at him, almost in challenge. "I think I am. I plan on doing this city a lot of good in the coming years…once I pay off my debts, get rich from the Deep Roads and get out of poverty that is."

Somewhat mollified (if not fully believing her answer), he thanked Hawke for her and the other's help, offering a small purse of coin in payment. The woman stared at it, looked up at him, and then shook her head. "Thank you," she said, making shooing motions with her hands. "But keep it. You'll need it more than I will…unless you plan on buying me dinner sometime?"

That last comment really threw Fenris off. "I…what?"

Hawke chuckled, pulling her hood back up and covering her features. "Sorry, that was a bit forward, wasn't it?"

Fenris coughed delicately, trying to ignore the heat that was settling on the back of his neck. "Um, I'll be here if you have need of me-"

"Oh good. I was hoping I could use your sword arm," Hawke chirped.

"My dear woman, you can certainly have more than just that," Fenris smiled.

"Awesome! I get the fisty thing too?"

Fenris wanted to simultaneously laugh and bash his head against the wall. So much for returning her…flirting gesture. Perhaps he needed more practice?

"Yes," he sighed. "The 'fisty thing' too."


	2. Chapter 2 or: Fenris, meet Merrill

**AN: Next installment of Snapshots. **

**Warnings for this section: Spiders. And Blood Magic. And Carver leering. You know, nothing major.**

**Game mechanics altered/ignored to make for a better story. Varric would vouch for me on this. There is also a slight nod to Sten from the first Dragon Age game. **

**Note: I can't remember the name of the reviewer who requested the 'choreographing dances' in the mansion, but I'll consider it. ^_^**

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><p>He honestly didn't care one way or another about the mission that sent them to the Dalish camp on Sundermount. He didn't like being in the middle of a camp full of elves who had nearly shot them on sight, but then again, it was rather nice to be out in the open, away from the smells of the city, nice to stretch his legs, slay a few trigger-happy bandits, and just enjoy the trip as much as he could. After all, they might never see this particular place again, so it was rather nice to soak up the scenery.<p>

"So, care to say why we just risked the wrath of the Dalish? Or is it a secret between just you and the Keeper? Hawke, have you been hiding something from me?" Varric asked innocently.

"Yes Varric, my darling dwarf," Hawke replied with a smile. "She is actually my grandmother, and I'm now on a quest to prove myself so the clan will accept me as one of their own, and after that happens I plan to go gallivanting through the rest of the Free Marches, bringing the wrath of the Dales to anyone who oppresses elves, enslaves freemen, or even steals the cookies from fat, slovenly children."

"And they call you the bull shit artist," Carver said from behind him, glancing down at the dwarf fondly.

Varric sighed dramatically, and hugged his crossbow tighter. "Ah, who do you think taught her? Oh Bianca," he sniffed. "They grow up so fast."

"It's that amulet," Fenris stated.

The group fell silent, turning as one to stare at him. He almost (almost!) fidgeted under their combined gazes. "What? Did I say that in Tevinter?"

"What makes you think it's the amulet?" Hawke asked, digging her chin into the high collar of her hood as the wind picked up.

"Because you've always had it on you, and you showed it to the Keeper," Fenris shrugged. "I thought that you didn't come up here for just a social call."

Hawke chuckled, turning back towards their path and leading the way. "Well, you don't miss much, do you?"

"Not if I can help it."

"I wonder why you've been watching me so intently. Do I intrigue you so?"

"Indeed you do. I'm waiting for you to start glowing and screaming about taking power from 'foolish mortals'."

"Ah. Sorry to disappoint you Fenris. Shall I try harder the next time we come across a Desire Demon?"

"Wouldn't a Pride Demon be better?"

"Perhaps, but a Desire Demon could at least give me very nice fantasies," Hawke laughed. She turned and looked at him, eyes bright and dancing with mischief. "Hm…let's see. A field of flowers, beautiful weather, and you doing a jig with a big smile on your face. You'd make all the women the world over happy."

Fenris didn't have a comeback for that, but Carver spoke up.

"Sister, please stop with the silliness."

"Would you rather I tried to do something 'smoldering' and 'dirty'? I bet I could do it if I tried."

"Please Maker no."

"Oh, all right. Oh, and watch out behind you. There's a giant spider that's been stalking you for the past minute, and I think it's getting impatient."

With a shout from Carver, the party leapt into action.

Another mile, and several more dead spiders later, they came across the Keeper's First. Fenris was already uneasy because the girl was obviously another mage. Hawke, naturally, didn't seem to mind, and she chatted with their guide as they continued onward. Carver seemed to be of Fenris' mind, and was scowling unrelentingly at the elf's back.

"Well, she's a rather cute thing, isn't she Broodmeister?"

"What?" "I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry," Varric apologized. "That was aimed for Carver, not you Elf."

Fenris tried to focus on the scenery, watching for more ambushes by spiders, but he did keep one ear tuned in to Varric and Carver.

"She is cute. Hmm…I think I'll call her Daisy. So, when are you going to ask her for a drink?"

"I-I…what?"

"Oh please. I can see the look in your eye. Puppy eyes. Little Carver is making puppy eyes at the wee elf girl-"

"Careful Carver," Fenris said, watching the two mages ahead of them ramble on. "Get too close and she might eat your soul."

"I doubt it, though I might be tempted to let her have it if she smiled and laughed more."

Fenris jerked his head around to stare at Carver. "You can't be serious."

"I doubt you are a celibate man Fenris," Carver smirked. He motioned at the smaller form ahead. "Can't you agree, at least appearance wise, she is a tempting creature? Those eyes, that hair, that skin…"

Fenris turned and looked at the other elf (Merrill, he reminded himself). He could see where Carver was coming from, but his eyes kept slipping to Hawke.

He couldn't help it. He found her vastly more interesting than some chatty naïve Dalish elf. What was it that made her tick? He had thought he had a measure of mages; mages sought power. Mages would do anything to reach that pinnacle. Mages were inherently more dangerous than the most seasoned warrior. Demons easily swayed them to do horrible things.

Yet this one…granted, he had not been around her that much or that long, but what he had seen made him pause, made him _almost_ want to relax in her presence. She did not seem to mind his wariness, or that he was essentially squatting in Hightown while she and her family took shelter in Lowtown with a relative. Most humans (not just mages) would have been upset by that. She…was not. As far as he could tell, anyway.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the glint of metal, and he was charging forward before he knew what he was doing, but it was too late.

Instead of turning the knife on Hawke, Merrill turned it on herself. A large cloud of blood welled up and was absorbed by a wall of blue magical energy that faded, sated on the offered blood.

A blood mage.

He and Carver both looked at each other, then at Hawke. "Oh, this will not end well," Carver muttered.

Again, he had not been acquainted with her for long, but he still felt surprised when she slowly lowered her hood, and turned to the elf with a look that was both cold and furious.

Fenris was used to seeing anger explode from mages, was used to seeing it consume not only the mage it started from, but also consume the victims as well.

He was…unsure of the anger that Hawke showed the elf witch. Her words, normally easy, light, and almost rolling, were very clipped, harsh, and cold. She did not raise her voice, did not gesture angrily. In fact, you could almost claim she was being serious for the first time since Fenris had met her.

He stared.

He had been in her company on and off for a few weeks before she dragged him out of his mansion that early morning, and he had apparently never seen her truly angry. Frustrated, irritated, yes. Angry?

If the sparks dancing out from her head were any indication, she was truly pissed.

"Carver!"

The command reached them clearly, causing all three males to jump. Carver took a few steps forward, eyeing Hawke's now-frizzing and sparking hair nervously. "…yes?"

"Do we have enough lyrium potions to share with our friend here and still have some left-over?"

Carver rolled his eyes, but pulled his pack off his back, rummaging around inside to check its' contents.

"Unless we fight an army of monstrous spiders, we should be good. Why?"

"I just want to be sure our friend here doesn't lose power too quickly so she doesn't have to resort to desperate measures."

With that said, Hawke whipped around, and headed higher up Sundermount, the now-sheepish elf girl following behind quickly.

The male trio looked at each other, shrugged, and followed. It was silent for a while, the chattering between the girls having picked up once more.

"…does she often spark like that?" Fenris finally asked. He couldn't contain himself any longer; he'd never seen a mage do that, unless they had been zapped or were building up power to unleash it on their victim. Hawke, obviously, had done neither.

Carver sighed. "The last time she did it that badly was when I told her crush that she liked him, and then proceeded to beat the shit out of him when he expressed interest."

Fenris and Varric shared a look, one that Carver immediately picked up on. "What? What's with that look?"

"You…really are an idiot, aren't you Carver?" Varric ventured.

"Of course not," Carver said lightly. "I made my sister stop beating around the bush, I found out his intentions, and I neutralized the threat. Problem solved."

"And she…got mad?"

"Oh yes," Carver said, smiling ruefully. "I still have the marks."

"She unleashed her power on you when she was emotionally upset?" Fenris asked sharply. Perhaps he had misjudged Hawke after all. He had thought her cheerful, calm, collected. But if she attacked her own brother-

"Fenris, she was ten. It hurt, but it wasn't lethal."

"…Oh."

Several hours and one powerful witch later, he found himself trailing behind the group as usual, only this time with an eager form in tow.

"I can't wait to get to the city! To see all the people, animals, and oh the Elves! I've heard about Alienages, but to see it and live it firsthand will be exciting!"

"You made Hawke mad."

Merrill's chatter halted abruptly. "I…I did, didn't I? She doesn't seem to like Blood Magic. Can't imagine why."

"I can imagine a few good reasons," Fenris muttered under his breath.

"Blood magic is like any other magic; it can be used properly, or it can be abused," Merrill said.

Fenris slowly turned and gave her a hard, penetrating stare.

He had to give the girl credit; she fidgeted, but didn't look away from him. That was something.

"I imagine that Hawke had a bad experience with Blood magic," he intoned after another moment, turning to glance at their leader, who was picking some elfroot. "Since you showed me a side of her I haven't had the privilege to see yet, I'll warn you now; the Templars of Kirkwall show no mercy to Blood mages. You would do well to give it up, permanently."

Merrill seemed to be considering his words, turning to look at where he was looking. A frown formed on her face, but it disappeared when she turned back to Fenris and offered a sketch of a bow. "Thank you Fenris, I shall remember that." Without another word, she skipped ahead to Hawke, and the chatter began again.

It wasn't until they reached the gates of Kirkwall that he was stopped mid-step by Hawke's loud comment.

"Fenris? What's this Merrill's telling me about you wishing to see many sides of me? Shall I turn around and around slowly so you can enjoy the show and the goods?"

He disappeared into the city, neck burning and his ears ringing with Carver's roars of outrage and Varric's laughter.


	3. Chesthair?

**AN: Nothing major in this, so rating is still T for Tame. XD**

**Slight nod to Shakespeare with one of the lines. Very. Slight.**

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><p>He had met the man before, but somehow Fenris had missed all of...that chest hair<p>

Fenris wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion from the day, recovering from his wounds, or the liquor that Hawke had brought him, but for some reason, the elf was fixated on Varric.

He had, of course, met the man before. He had even gone on several excursions with him. And yet, somehow, Fenris had missed all of that…chest hair.

It shouldn't have fascinated him so, but it did. It was common knowledge that elves were of the hairless sort, and dwarves were of the hairy sort. But…to see it displayed so prominently and proudly…

Fenris was blaming the alcohol. Yes, yes he was. And the pain of his broken arm and his tender head. And exhaustion. And the heat of the day, even though the sun had gone down hours ago and the heat was probably just all of the patrons in the Hanged Man.

"See something you like, Elf?"

Fenris blinked slowly up at Varric's smirking face. He pondered the question thoughtfully for a long moment before answering. "I've figured it out," he said, slurring just a little.

The dwarf merely cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

Fenris smiled triumphantly, banging his good fist on the bedding. "That's where your beard went. To your chest. That's why it's so…hairy."

"He makes a good point," Merrill pointed out from beside him, standing and taking away a basin with bloodied water in it. "I thought maybe your beard migrated south, much like the birds."

"Maybe I wanted to stand out amongst my brethren, and focused my strength on growing chest hair that no one seems to be able to resist instead."

Varric was teasing…maybe? Fenris wasn't quite sure. Teasing was…still new. And his mind was still fuzzy and muddled from a mixture of exhaustion and alcohol. Well, at least the pain had slowed to a dull throbbing.

"We need to get a healer on this team," Hawke muttered from her chair, frowning at Fenris' prostrate form. "Not that you don't do a good job Merrill," she added, making the Dalish elf smile. "But we still need one. A good one. Or else we have to buy enough armor to cover a dragon and put it on Fenris so he doesn't go charging into swinging blocks of wood without proper protection."

Fenris tried to frown, but as that took too much energy, he ended up pouting instead. "I'll just let the dwarf walk in front of me next time. He's short enough; he can duck the traps that come swinging out of the bloody walls."

"I'll be sure to walk right next to you Broody so that when I duck, it'll get you instead."

Fenris was not in the best condition to match wits with the self-proclaimed story teller, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

"That's why you'll be in front, dwarf. No one gets hurt, and you take care of the traps. Everyone wins."

"Not me," Hawke quipped. "No matter what goes on, even though I'm leader, I still end up in the back of the group. So I don't get as much action OR first pick at the loot," she added, mock glaring at an innocent looking Varric.

"Oh?" Fenris asked, turning to look at the woman, a little concerned. "Does it really bother you that much?"

"Oh, not terribly," Hawke smiled. "With you in front, I don't mind watching from the back."

Fenris blinked at her owlishly while the dwarf roared with laughter and Merrill just looked confused. He frowned, drawing his good hand up to scratch at his chin thoughtfully. "There's a euphemism in there somewhere, I'm sure of it," he mused, which caused Varric to titter some more.

Hawke was chuckling as well, but she stopped and offered him a smile. "Don't think too hard on it Fenris. You've had a hard day, so get some rest and work on healing yourself."

Fenris blinked at the room. "Here?"

"I don't mind," Varric shrugged. "I'll be up all night anyway. Business. And you'll make a lovely conversation piece…so long as you don't go all glowey and rip someone's hearts out of their chests."

"I'll be good," Fenris said, somewhat meekly. The bed was terribly comfortable, and did not smell of death, decay, and mold like the bed in Dana- his, it was HIS, mansion. Normally he wouldn't be comfortable taking someone else's bed, but between his fuzzy head and Varric's willingness, he thought one time wouldn't really make that much of a difference.

He drifted, and thought that, once he was nearly in the Fade, felt something soft brush his hair from his closed eyes. He didn't stir, and slipped away into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Of Idiots and Mabari

**AN: Again, nothing major in this, save for language. Oh, and miffed Hawke. T for Tame. XD**

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><p>It was Carver's fault that Fenris was currently trudging through Lowtown, at night, with a new companion literally on his heels, searching for the apostate woman.<p>

Fenris wasn't sure on the details, just that when he had arrived at the Hawke residence, his leader had stormed out without so much as a hello, followed by Carver who was yelling at her for putting them in more danger, and why didn't she just give up already, and that Father surely wouldn't have stood for this.

Hawke had disappeared without a word or even a flicker of magic. One moment she was there, before Fenris, and the next, gone.

Fenris had tried to immediately set off after her, but Carver got to him first.

"Take the dog with you and save my fool sister from herself," he growled, shoving what looked like a biscuit in the elf's hands before storming back inside and yelling for a flower.

A Mabari that stood as tall as Fenris' chest came barreling out the door with a booming bark, and promptly bowled Fenris over.

Just because he was nicknamed 'little wolf' didn't mean he had an affinity or love for slobbering mongrels, Fenris thought grumpily as drool was dribbled on his armor.

"Off," he said sharply, and was surprised when the animal obeyed immediately. It sat back on its' haunches, stumpy tail wagging in the dirt as it gazed at Fenris with what could only be described as true Puppy Eyes.

"Flower will help you find her," Carver said from the doorway. "He'll also be extra protection for any trouble my sister will undoubtedly find herself in."

"What a caring brother, sending his dog to do his duty to protect his sister," Fenris said. Carver scowled at him, arms crossing over his chest. "I care about her, elf, but I'm not an idiot or suicidal. Besides, she has a soft spot for you and the flea bag, so you stand a better chance of actually finding her and not getting what she loves to call 'a mind whammy'."

The boy, for being a real idiot and prick, was probably right in this regard.

He glanced down at the dog, staring into what looked like adoring chocolate eyes…on the face of a war hound bred for tearing men's limbs off of them. He looked the dog over, pausing at a piece of anatomy that made him question the dog's name.

"Flower?"

Carver snorted, and turned back into the doorway. "My sister named him, not me. And once you name them, you're stuck with the name. Not that he cares. His manhood is never questioned."

Flower the male Mabari woofed, stood, and trotted down the street. Somewhat amused, Fenris followed, breaking into a sprint when the animal started to run full tilt.

It took them both thirty minutes to find Hawke, and by then, she had already finished off the small group of thugs who had tried to ambush her.

Her hood was down, and Fenris saw the magic that was still dancing in her eyes, just as clearly as he could feel her magic still lingering in the air, making his skin tingle and the lyrium in his scars hum. He ignored the sensations, and drew closer. "Hawke."

She turned fully towards him, and offered a strained smile. "Hello Fenris. Flower," she called sharply. "No!"

The dog whined, but obediently lowered his leg.

"Are you unharmed?" It seemed like the right question to ask; not too personal, but enough to show that he cared, and that he wanted to make sure she was healthy and whole.

He wasn't expecting that simple question to set off the woman he secretly admired to a degree.

"Unharmed? Unharmed? I wish I wasn't! Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I come home with a few nasty wounds after doing some proper work if Carver won't ease off on me. I didn't want to be leader, with this group or with my family, but nobody gave me a choice in the matter. It's like the Maker was short on leadership material, and just plucked me out of obscurity, anointed me with something that screams 'leader' and then plopped me back down on the ground."

Fenris nodded, playing along with her. Apparently she was so distressed that she was rambling; that was alright, maybe if she got it out of her system, she would calm somewhat.

"My father was the head of our family, and he did a damn good job. You would have liked him, for an apostate," she added idly. "He liked working with his hands, could drink anyone under the table, and wasn't above beating suitors with sticks when they came and threatened his darling daughters." She chuckled, though it sounded dry. "I hope he can forgive me for the shoddy job I've done in his place. He never lost any of us, not once, and he never wavered, never hesitated."

She bent down to dig through one of the corpses pockets, and came up with some coins which she pocketed right away before coming to stand before Fenris, offering him a thoughtful smile. "I've been told by mother that I inherited most of my father's charms and talents. However, it seems his gift for bull shitting was not one of them."

"Oh, I don't know," Fenris replied as they started to walk back towards Hawke's home. "You seem to be a decent bull shitter."

"Not when it comes to cards I don't," she frowned, and then turned to glare at her dog. "And you! Where do you get off playing Wicked Grace better than me?"

Flower offered an apologetic whine, then a playful yip.

"I will NOT take lessons from you! I'll figure it out for myself thanks."

Flower chuffed at that, and then nipped gently at Fenris' toes. He tried to ignore the animal, but the beast was insistent, and with a strained noise, Fenris started to dance away from the dog and Hawke. It had…it had really tickled, and why it bothered him, the elf wasn't sure but it did.

Hawke considered the situation for a moment, then turned to her dog and offered it a smile that Fenris had come to realize meant trouble and mischief. "Sic 'em Flower. Make the pretty elf dance."

Fenris spent the rest of the walk picking his feet up higher and higher, whirling and darting around the large animal as it barked happily and Hawke laughed at her beast's antics.

By the time he bid Hawke farewell, his feet were covered in slobber and bruises from when the dog stepped on him, he had been laughed at by most of Lowtown, and he had nearly been pick-pocketed while he had been distracted.

But seeing Hawke offer a small but true smile to him as he left made it feel like today had been a productive day, and Fenris couldn't resist breaking out a bottle of wine when he got home.

He silently toasted her dead father, thanking the man for raising such a stunning, strong daughter, and tipped it back.


	5. Errands

_**Rating: T for language**_

_**AN: Because, as we all know, Hawke is easily distracted. And, as we all know, Fenris puts up with it remarkably well. Bonus internet cookie to anyone who picks up on an old movie reference.**_

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><p>Were all Fereldan mages this scatterbrained, Fenris wondered. Did they all run about, flitting from place to place with no sense of direction or consequence?<p>

Fenris was used to a life on the run; he had to keep moving constantly, unless he wanted Danarius or his hunters to catch him. Of course, while this meant he usually kept a few steps ahead of them, it also meant he did not have as much social interaction as others his (possible) age might.

It had taken some coaxing on Hawke's part, but soon enough the mage had him looking forward to group outings. He didn't care for all the company (the blood mage was still a blood mage and Carver was an arrogant ass) but it was nice to have company to run with. Perhaps, he mused dryly, Danarius had been right in naming him 'little wolf'- wolves could run on their own, but they did better in packs.

He snorted at the thought of his 'pack'; Hawke as Alpha and leader, with the rest of them trailing behind helplessly, whether they wanted to or not. If they had been a true wild pack, their pelts would have been adorning someone's hunting lodge by now, with all the crazy schemes Hawke got them into.

So, in the beginning, Fenris didn't mind all the small, little errands they ran around doing. It was better than, say, taking on a squad of renegade Tal-Voshoth or dealing with lyrium-crazed Templars.

Yet after the fifth outing or so, he noticed something that began to irritate him.

There was no pattern. Hawke led them every which way in the city, and outside it as well. She went wherever she wished on whim, or on feeling, instead of systematically going from spot to spot to investigate, gather the required item, and then return it.

Sure, they still got paid, and Hawke's infamy was slowly inching higher (according to Varric) but it made Fenris wonder: Were all Fereldan mages this scatterbrained? Did they all run about in the barbarian lands to the south, flitting from place to place with little to no sense of direction or consequence? He admitted readily that he didn't really have a good sample to work with; he was quickly learning that Hawke, for the most part, was nearly always an exception to things. Merrill was also from Fereldan, but as she made deals with demons and was Dalish, he didn't think she should count.

"Fenris? You wouldn't have any bananas at home, would you?"

And of course, there were the random questions and comments Hawke would make to him. The others received fairly normal queries: are you hurt? How are you settling in to Kirkwall? Is your roof still leaking Merrill? Aveline, how's the Guard? Carver, why are you such a prick?

But him, oh no. Nothing so mundane and ordinary.

"Bananas?"

"Yes," Hawke nodded, eyes holding a determined gleam. "I wish to make pie."

"I have no bananas today, Hawke."

"Damn it. We'll have to go to the market then before going home," the mage muttered, doing an about-face and scurrying off in the opposite direction.

It didn't matter that the person they needed to see next was right there on the corner, looking around furtively and shuffling his feet constantly. It didn't matter that in some cases, time _was _of the essence.

Hawke wanted bananas. So whatever poor soul was waiting for her help could damn well wait.

"Do you plan on sharing that pie?"

"Only if you make it for dinner," Hawke replied, offering a smile. "I've been trying to get everyone together for weeks, and tonight's the night."

Fenris considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of deigning to show up to such a gathering.

Well, it wasn't like he had anything note worthy in his abandoned mansion, save for the wine.

"I'll bring some refreshments then."

"Excellent! Here's hoping I don't blow this batch up," Hawke said as she hefted the fruit from the stall and heading back towards the dwarf waiting for the toe of a parrot or something.

"…blow up?"

"Yes, it happens sometimes," Hawke said airily. "Normally if I get distracted, things tend to…burn. Or blow up."

"So if I see smoke or hear an explosion…?"

"Dinner is off."

"Right."


	6. Abominable abominations

**_Rating: T for language and perceived Puppy Eyes._**

**_AN: Because we all know Anders is more street savvy than the game lets on, and that Varric is a master when it comes to puppeteering. ;)_**

* * *

><p>The two apostates were more than enough mage for Fenris. It figured that Hawke would not only allow but rather encourage an Abomination to join the ranks. Kirkwall was going to hell in a hand-basket, and Fenris was along for the ride, willing or not.<p>

It had started out simply as a quest to find a safe way into the Deep Roads. Seeking out a rogue Grey Warden actually sounded like a sound, logical step. After all, besides the dwarves, who else would know the Deep Roads better?

Fenris actually did not mind that the man was a mage. He was sticking to Dark Town, trying to help refugees. It was commendable, helping others for close to nothing in return. And from what he saw of the man's pale, gaunt form, he truly received next to nothing for exhausting his powers. It was foolish, with him probably being on the watch out for Templars, but commendable all the same.

Then the man had spotted them, their weapons, and their ready stances, and had _glowed blue_.

That wasn't right. Only Fenris had the right to glow blue in their group. Mages didn't glow like that unless-

_Abomination_.

The only reason the elf didn't charge the thing was that Hawke did not move. She merely stood there, cloaked head cocked slightly to the side, considering the situation for a moment before smiling.

Why she would smile at _that thing_ he would never know, but it seemed to be the right move; the thing calmed, demanded to know why they had broken into the sanctuary of his clinic.

The conversation was short, to the point, and full of promises on both sides that had Fenris itching to run back to his mansion, grab his few things, and leave. Making deals with demons, or the possessed, never ended well, even with Hawke in charge.

"I don't understand her sometimes," he grumbled around his mug later that evening. He was in Varric's company while Hawke and the others went about town doing menial errands. "Does she WANT to get us killed or possessed?"

"Oh, cheer up Elf," the dwarf said, not looking up from the accounts he was pouring over for his Guild. "I don't think anyone fully understands Hawke, not even Hawke herself."

"Considering some of the things she's done or said, that…shouldn't surprise me," Fenris admitted. He was still embarrassed over the incident where she wanted to twirl around so she could 'show him the goods' instead of stealing glances as Merrill claimed he was.

Damn that blood mage who feigned innocence and sunshine and wielded Dalish pride like one wields a claymore.

"Well, as long as he doesn't go all 'Righteous Fury' on us, I think we'll be fine with Blondie," Varric said after a moment. "And he's a healer. With some of the trouble we get into, having him on call is in our best interest."

"Sure, sure; until he kills someone."

"Elf, you are the pot calling the kettle black."

"I meant someone innocent."

"'Innocent' is such a strange word, with so many different meanings…"

"Don't play coy. He thinks he has control over that demon inside him, and one day, it will take someone's life to show him how wrong he is."

"Ah, I _thought_ I felt my ears burning," a familiar voice intoned.

"Then leave, mage," Fenris snarled at the man, who ignored the warning and promptly plopped down in-between the dwarf and elf. Fenris drew his mug closer towards his body and away from Anders; no telling what that _thing_ was planning…

The abomination ignored him, and instead engaged the dwarf in conversation. Apparently, Anders was no fool; he knew right away who to go to for certain favors. And Varric was in a good mood, so by the time the idiot mage had left, he had acquired the promise from the merchant prince that he would send out the word that Anders the Healer would willingly heal any of the Coeterie or street thugs, provided they didn't try to run him out of business, and they brought supplies with them for payment.

"So the free clinic is an act," Fenris mused as the other man had swept off. "He helps the refugees, claims no coin or profit from them, but to help those with power, he demands goods and supplies to keep helping the needy. Commendable, if a bit foolhardy. They will want the same services for free; I expect you will have to grease many palms to get him what he wants."

"Is that admiration I hear in your voice Elf?" Varric asked, smirking. "You? Admiring a mage? This should be marked on the calendar. Alert the Chantry!"

Fenris rolled his eyes. "Magic has its' uses, as I've said before. You make it sound like I can't admire magic users who use their curse for good things."

"Oh, I know you do," Varric nodded. "Hawke doesn't count though."

The elf winced. "…am I…that obvious…?"

"Only to me," Varric assured him, turning back to his books. "Hawke might tease you, but she has no idea what she's doing, trust me. Honestly, I haven't seen worse flailing between two people except in romance novels."

"Oh. Then she-"

"I don't know, Broodmiester," the dwarf interjected. "But just watch where you put those Puppy eyes of yours or you'll get real intimate with Bianca, and not in the good way."

"There _are_ no _Puppy eyes_," Fenris growled.

"Good," Varric said. "Saves me from having to clean the blood off everything."

Fenris snorted into his drink, taking a gulp before continuing. "You do realize that the abomination will bring us nothing but trouble?"

Varric glanced up, and Fenris felt a sense of foreboding as the dwarf gave him a very nasty smile. "Broody, I'm _counting_ on it. After all, what good is a love story without some competition?"

"Competition?" Fenris' ears perked up at that. "Competition for what? Are you saying…?"

"Hmph, maybe not so much competition after all," the dwarf shrugged. "If you haven't noticed the looks he's been giving Hawke-"

As Fenris stormed out of the tavern, intent on finding Hawke and keeping the naïve woman away from that _damned, no good, obviously opportunistic abomination_, Varric sat back in his chair, moved aside his guild papers, and began to write things that had nothing to do with accounts, trading, or money.

**_"'And the elf, in a fit of brooding passion, chased after the oblivious lady…'"_**


	7. Shiny Things Go Where?

**_Rating: T for...well, Anders and what he implies._**

**_AN: I apologize in advance for the subject matter. I am sorry. Not as sorry as Fenris though._**

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><p>Fenris did not understand why Hawke insisted on coming here once a week. It was an establishment of ill-repute (if he was feeling generous) a whore house when he wasn't.<p>

Fenris did not like slavery of any kind, and despite what the others assured him of 'free will' and 'precautions', he saw the Blooming Rose as an establishment of enslavement. Granted, many of the whores _were_ there of their own free will, but they were still slaves; slaves to money, and to the lucky few, slaves to pleasure.

In Tevinter, it was not unheard of that a Magister would loan out his slaves to important guests or potential allies. Although Danarius had never done that to him, Fenris had been very aware that that could change very quickly, if his former master so desired. As a slave, Fenris had had no sense of self- his job, his purpose in life was to do whatever his master pleased. It was one of the few blessings he had counted that Danarius had never elected to force him to share his body with another.

So to be in here with Hawke, week after week, made him irritable and jumpy. He did _not_ like being touched, and all everyone seemed to want to do when he went inside was touch him. Even when there were no mysterious, brazen hands, there were always the eyes that liked to size him up, and the proceed to undress him. Being ogled was not amusing to him either. Visiting and staying while Hawke chatted with whoever caught her attention that night always irked.

At least he wasn't the only one here who seemed uncomfortable- the Abomination was along for the night's activities as well, and while he had gazed longingly not only at some ample-bosomed women, but also the fully stocked bar, he made no move towards either. The mage just sat there next to him, looking glumly down at the table.

It was odd, perhaps, but Fenris couldn't help but feel happy that at least he wasn't totally alone in his misery.

"Excellent," Hawke cackled as she came back to their table. "So Sophia said that one of her regulars told her about this new leather getup-"

"Hawke, is this really necessary?" Fenris interrupted, ignoring Anders' nod of agreement. "We come here once, sometimes twice a week. Is the blow to your reputation worth whatever gossip you come across?"

Hawke was frowning at him, and had crossed her arms over her chest. Even in the dim lighting and with her hood up, he could read her easily now."Fenris, I come here to gather information. Whores are often overlooked when their customers do their other business here. Varric has his contacts, and thanks to our weekly visits, I have mine as well. If my reputation suffers a little despite the fact I haven't done anything here, then so be it."

"Do we have to follow you inside?" Fenris asked, gritting his teeth as the same elf who had been eyeing him all night blew a kiss in his direction.

Hawke cocked her head at him. "I thought you and Anders enjoyed the scenery?"

"I don't know, I'm usually too busy trying not to jump out of my skin or throttle anyone who squeezes my assets," Fenris replied. "I'm sure the mage doesn't mind; he likes salivating over things he can't have."

"Talk about me like I'm not here, why don't you?" Anders snapped.

"If you're not comfortable with this, why not just tell me?" Hawke sighed, throwing up her hands. "Honestly, you two don't have to follow me everywhere. You can both stay outside or something."

* * *

><p>The next time they visit the Blooming Rose, Anders and Fenris do just that, and take up post outside the door. Other customers slink past them as time goes by, and eventually boredom takes its' toll.<p>

"You think she's alright in there?" Anders asked. "She's been in there for quite a while."

"I'm fairly certain if Hawke was in trouble, there would be a lot of screaming, and possibly a fire," Fenris said, in no way trying to comfort the Abomination.

"What if some visiting Templars got her?" the mage worried. "A little magebane in a drink goes a long way…"

Fenris snorted. "She'd wipe the floor with them. Besides, she's been an apostate all her life; she knows what to do and not do, and accepting drinks from strangers probably counts as a 'not do'."

Silence was between them for a few more minutes before Anders spoke again. "You don't think…she's with someone?"

Fenris glared at the mage. "As if a woman like her would ever need to buy someone's _services_," he spat.

"True," Anders nodded. "But there are a few in there that probably wouldn't mind doing, um, pro bono work, if you get my meaning."

Fenris huffed, and then chuckled, eventually starting to honestly laugh. Anders seemed uncertain, but eventually he joined in as well.

"Do you think we should go in and check on her?" Anders asked idly once they had calmed, glancing up at the second floor windows. "Just as concerned acquaintances, of course. Make sure she's, you know, on task and not getting distracted by something shiny?"

"Does this place have a lot of shiny things?" Fenris asked, curious despite himself. "I didn't see any when we were in there…"

"You wouldn't," Anders said dryly. "Until you got a good look at some of the goods offered."

"People willingly do that to their bodies?" Fenris asked, truly shocked. To mar and harm one's own body for bits of metal…

"Oh yes," Anders nodded sagely. "You wouldn't believe where some of them are placed either."

"Try me."

Anders then proceeded to explain _exactly_ where and what could be placed on the human and elvhen body, and it wasn't until Hawke came back outside that he paused in his lecture.

"…Anders? Why does Fenris look shell-shocked?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

Fenris shook his head, and cleared his throat. "Hawke? You…you didn't see anything shiny did you?"

The woman blinked up at him. "What? No, no. You know if I had I would have grabbed it."

"Good," Fenris said, satisfied that no illicit pro bono work had been done.

"Now, as I was explaining Fenris, sometimes a man may wish to get his-" Anders let out a loud squawk when Fenris clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Ah, nevermind Anders, I, ah, have my answers," Fenris said, avoiding Hawke's curious gaze.

"Mprh?"

"Yes, I'm sure thank you."

"Ot uhpel."

Wiping his hand off on his trousers as they walked back Hightown, Fenris made a mental note to follow Hawke whenever she went to the Blooming Rose, and keep her in sight. Just to make sure she stayed safe and secure, of course.


	8. Bloody Pirate!

**_Rating: High T because of You-Know-Who (not Voldemort, wrong fandom)_**

**_AN: The idea of drunk Fenris was too tempting to pass up, and my Isabella is...well, you'll see. Sorry in advance. XD_**

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><p>He liked women who said what was on their minds. It made many things much simpler; getting information or buying supplies were much easier when he dealt with blunt, honest women instead of the coy, shy ones that liked to titter at him and try to ply his coin purse with sweet, misleading words. One of the reasons he admired Hawke so much was that, to the day, she had never sugarcoated anything for him; it was what it was, so let's move on. Women who spoke their minds were, in Fenris' opinion, Maker-sent, and they gave him some measure of stability in his otherwise chaotic life.<p>

Isabella, however, was proving to be an exception.

He had met the former pirate captain after Hawke had returned from the Hanged Man, dragging a smirking dark skinned beauty behind her.

"Fenris, this is Isabella. She's a pirate, and has graciously agreed to tag along on some of our adventures. Isabella, this is Fenris, the resident glowing, brooding elf of our merry band of misfits."

He liked that the woman held out a hand to immediately shake his, and was further pleased to find that her hand squeezed his just as strongly, and that there were calluses along her palms and fingers. She was both beautiful, and obviously didn't shy from hard work. Good points in Fenris' books.

Then she opened her lovely mouth.

"Oh my, what a look. Hawke, do you think he could smolder the pants off of you?"

Whatever look was on his face dropped away at that comment. "I think everyone will keep their pants on for now, thank you."

"Except me," Isabella giggled, motioning to her lower body. Fenris glanced, grudgingly but still appreciatively, and then promptly flushed.

"…you have no-"

"Pants, I know," the pirate said cheerfully. "Hawke couldn't get over it either. 'Isabella, you _must_ have something on under there,'" the pirate imitated, causing their other companion to, noticed even in the low light, blush.

"I'll never question pant-less people again," Hawke said solemnly. "Never."

"Oh, you and the lanky elf here can _question_ me all you like," Isabella purred. "I'm sure with the right techniques you can even make me _sing_-"

"No questions, just get out," Fenris said firmly, pointing back towards the entry hall. "Now."

"Oh, sweet thing, you're being a stick in the mud," Isabella pouted. "You have a bone-fide, true pirate in front of you. You sure you don't have one burning question?"

"None at all," Fenris growled. "Now _out_."

The two women had left without fuss, and Fenris had thought that would be the end of that.

Oh, how wrong he was.

* * *

><p>"You do realize that if I see something I like, I go after it, right?"<p>

Her voice floated out of the darkness of his mansion several nights later, and with a frown, Fenris glanced up to notice that his recently empty table was suddenly full of Riviani pirate. "'M not interested in anything you have to offer," he slurred, tipping the bottle in his hand back and taking another large gulp.

"I've been told that before, and I enjoy proving people wrong."

"Get out before I throw you out," Fenris sighed wearily. It had been a long day of traipsing along the Wounded Coast, he had had to deal with the Abomination's presence AND his sly flirting with Hawke, and he had taken a sound beating to prevent Hawke from being bashed about and probably broken. He had bruises on his bruises, couldn't walk without a limp, and had spent a good hour arguing and yelling with Hawke, who had wanted him to submit to the Abomination's healing. He eventually won, but it had cost him; he did not have the patience or energy to deal with another problem right now.

"I just thought I'd offer a friendly ear," Isabella shrugged. "I see how you look at Hawke, and it's rather cute, if depressing. Honestly, I think-"

"I am sick of people thinking to critique myself and Hawke!" Fenris yowled, uncaring if the neighbors heard of not; he was mad. Let them think the place was haunted by particularly angry and vocal spirits. "First I get teased by the blood mage for the supposed 'looks' I give that woman, then the dwarf gives me a short speech warning me against hurting her or his Bianca will get very intimate with me, and now I have a an all-too-friendly pirate who is now here calling me 'cute'. THERE ARE NO PUPPY EYES!"

Isabella was blinking at him now. "I didn't say there were, but now that you mention it-"

"Stop. Go no further, lest you regret it." He took another swig, choking as he swallowed too much too quickly. "Futuo mei transversa cursu!"

Isabella was cocking her head now, a definitely surprised look on her face. "You're drunk," she accused.

"'M not," Fenris replied. "I had…" he looked at the empty bottles on the table next to his chair. "Three bottles. Not drunk. Stupid, lying pirate. Go back to your…your ship or whatever…and do whatever it is you do and leave me alone."

"You're drunk," Isabella insisted, her eyes dancing. "And you seem to be the talkative drunk; this is the most I've ever heard from you. Hmm, wonder how friendly you are…"

"Keep your mitts to yourself," Fenris growled, swiping a gauntlet clad hand at her- missing- before continuing. "Unless you want them forcibly removed."

"Oh, so you _are_ a dominant type. Kinky bastard."

"Get. Out."

At least, that's what he was certain he said. After that, his memory got fuzzy. So it was a bit of a shock to wake up the next morning in his bed with the pirate curled around him, snoring just as loud as any man.

Hawke expressed concern later that day when she noticed Isabella walking with a limp instead of her usual swagger. "Are you alright, Isabella?"

"The elf kicked me out of his bed," the pirate groused, ignoring the choking noises coming from said elf. "And I didn't even try to do anything to him! And he ups and kicks me out I'm garbage or something!"

Fenris refused to comment, save for shoving a hand in Anders' face when the mage had pulled him aside and tried to put a healing poultice in his hands, in case he 'suddenly started burning or itching in _that_ area'.


	9. Meeting the Arishok

**Rating: T for language and implied half-nudity**

**AN: I quote Sten in this chapter, because I miss that big guy. Yup.**

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><p>It was going to be one of those days Fenris realized when he awoke to the sound of Hawke bellowing 'hello' from his entrance hall.<p>

Sometimes, Hawke did not need him, or didn't have anything to do, so Fenris would spend the day usually in what Hawke had started calling his 'man-cave': it had a fireplace to help keep warm and dry, and it had a usable bed. Fenris saw no reason to use the other rooms of the mansion; where Danarius needed multiple rooms with multiple purposes, Fenris was appreciative with what little he had, and saw no point in utilizing the other rooms. Besides, this room was trap free, and he didn't like setting off the traps around the mansion so he could save them for would-be thieves and for days when he desperately needed something to do.

He glanced out the window as he pulled himself up, letting out a pained groan- it was barely dawn, and he had had a late night before. Whoever was in charge of the universe enjoyed seeing him in pain.

"Fenris? Fenris? Hey, are you- oh my."

Fenris turned to the door, glaring at Hawke…who now had turned her back to him. "I see you knocked, like everyone else does," he growled, pulling his low-hung trousers up higher, and looking around for his shirt.

"Sorry," Hawke called out, still politely turned. "I just thought I could drag you along for something special."

"Special?" Fenris queried as he gave up on his shirt, and started pulling his armor on. "Special like running around looking for odd potion ingredients, or special like visiting the Bone Pit?"

"Even better! I need your help to carry some things."

"I am to be your pack mule?" Fenris asked, securing his gauntlets and grabbing his sword.

"Yep," Hawke said, offering him a small smile when he walked by her and towards the door.

"Very well."

On the way to Hawke's home, it was with a start that Fenris suddenly realized she had ditched her normal hooded attire. Her eyes sparkled, her skin seemed to absorb the morning glow, and her hair danced in the light breeze.

He could now easily admit that he found he rather liked her when she didn't hide her features.

"Hawke? Your hood. It's-"

"Gone, I know," Hawke huffed, squinting up at the rising sun. "Carver said I looked stupid, and he chopped it to bits last night. I hate this," she added, looking around nervously. "I feel like I'm being ogled."

Fenris coughed, and politely looked away.

It wasn't as grueling or hard as he thought it would be, Fenris thought several hours later as he trotted after Hawke, a large satchel in hand. Odd, it wasn't that heavy, but he didn't question the contents, and Hawke didn't offer any explanation.

She had had Fenris keep her mother company while she disappeared into a backroom. It had taken some time before she had emerged, and had then given the order to set out. Fenris was all too happy to leave; Leandra had been chattering away, and had run out of things to talk about, and had settled on bemoaning his skinny state of existence and would he PLEASE come more often to dinner, and Hawke so did LOVE his visits-

Perhaps it was a delivery that was a bit…sensitive, Fenris thought with a nod. Yes, quite possibly it was either an item of an intimate or illegal nature. The less he knew, the less likely Aveline was to brow beat it out of him later.

To his surprise, they headed to the docks and walked right up to the Qunari compound doors.

"Hawke…"

She ignored him, and strode right up to the Qunari guard at the gate.

"Good morning," she smiled.

The guard looked down at her, but didn't return the greeting.

"I was wondering if I could go in and say hello to the Arishok and give him a belated 'welcome to the neighborhood' gift."

Fenris watched the guard closely, looking for any signs of hostility- he shouldn't attack Hawke, but one could never tell, especially when a bunch of warriors had been corralled for over two years, even Qunari. If he made any move towards her-

"I need to search your bag, basara."

Hawke gave a pout, but motioned for Fenris to hand the bag over. He did so, still wary of the guard.

Fenris had expected many varied things to be in their satchel, but when the guard drew back with a confused frown, Fenris overcame his natural wariness to take a peak.

They…were…?

"Basara, you may enter, but if these are to harm any of our brethren, you'll meet the end of my spear," the guard said, waving them through, still looking puzzled.

Fenris waited until they had passed him and another group of Qunari before leaning in to whisper to the obviously INSANE woman beside him.

"...you made cookies...for the Qunari?"

"Yes."

"...cookies."

"Well, they look like cookies, right? Can't call them little cakes or pies or muffins, so they must be cookies."

"I don't know whether to be worried about offending the Arishok or impressed that you're willing to find out if the Qunari have a sweet tooth."

"Aha," Hawke chuckled. "If you want to run back to safety, now's your chance. Or are you willing to follow me into the lion's den?"

Fenris fought hard against the smile that threatened to take over his mouth, and instead replied as coolly as he could: "So long as you'll have me, I'm with you."

The Arishok was everything Fenris would have expected from the military arm of the Qunari nation: blunt, with no tolerance for the political bullshit that was enveloping Kirkwall, and decidedly cagey due to several years in an alien city, holed up with nowhere to go.

"If you come seeking coin, human, you'll find none here."

"Actually," Hawke said, stepping forward and offering her bag up to the Arishok. "I wanted to offer you a belated welcome to the neighborhood, and to offer the infamous, but elusive, Kirkwall hospitality."

The Arishok paused, clearly not expecting that sentence to have come out of a human's mouth. "You mock me…or show a politeness I've come to not expect in this festering city."

"Momma always told me to try to be nice to the neighbors," Hawke replied, smiling brightly. "I don't know what kind you have back home," she said as she relinquished the bag to an attendant. "But I hope they'll be tasty enough for you."

The Arishok stared at the bag of cookies before him for a long time- long enough for Fenris to start sweating and fidgeting, looking around for escape routes, and noting how many there were and how many were already armed-

"We do not have these…things back home," the Arishok finally rumbled, daintily picking up one and sniffing it. He drew back in surprise. "These…smell good. Almost…sweet? But with a tint of spice?"

Hawke nodded. "We call them cookies. They're usually a snack or dessert in Orlais, Fereldan, and the Free Marches. You can make many different varieties, but those there are gingerbread cookies, my favorite."

Fenris blinked owlishly as the Arishok took a bite, chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and after swallowing, nodded in approval.

"These are…delicious, basara. Thank you for the unexpected…gift," he seemed unused and uncomfortable with such polite exchanges, but given his occupation, Fenris could sympathize.

"Basara, I would ask your name before you left, and your place of residence."

"Oh?" Hawke blinked.

"Yes. I do not think this will last long among my men, and would prefer it if I knew where to get a hold of you when we needed more."


	10. Crossed Worlds, pt 1

**Rating: T for sensuality...sort of.**

**AN: Dear readers...I am sorry about this. I did warn in the beginning that there would be crack. And here is some of it. First bit of possible crossovers that might pop up in this story, one way or another. If you know the references in this, then congratulations, and again I offer my apologies.**

**Pleasedon'thurtmekthnxbai.**

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><p>It was a full tavern, shiny and glistening in ways that Fenris had never seen…but he took it all in stride, ignoring the smoke that filled the air as he watched the dancer and singer on stage.<p>

Hawke offered him a coy wink, looking ravishing in a tight fitting red and gold dress that shined like diamonds. "Anything goes, Buster," she crooned at him.

The room exploded in an array of red and gold, and Fenris found himself in a small bedroom, standing toe to toe with Hawke. He munched on an apple, trying to look unfazed as she stood before him with a platter of fruit. He was wearing…something brown, and she was wearing a shimmering robe, though it was dull in comparison to the red necklace she was wearing.

"Do you wear your jewels to bed, Hawke?" he asked lightly.

"Of course," Hawke said, nibbling on a grape. She offered him a blunt look. "And nothing else."

He blinked.

"Does that shock you?"

"Nothing shocks me," he huffed, taking another bite. "I'm a doctor."

"So as a doctor, you do research?"

"Always," he affirmed.

"So what sort of research would you do on me?"

Fenris paused for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. He removed the bifocals he was wearing, and offered her an intense look. "Nocturnal activities."

She offered him an innocent look. "You mean like what sort of cream I put on my face, my favorite position to sleep in?"

Enough!

"Mating customs," he drawled.

"Love rituals?" she asked, leaning closer.

"Primitive," he purred. "Sexual practices."

"So you're an authority in that area?" she breathed, leaning in closer, her lips nearly touching his-

He was choking, being choked by wire around his neck, and she was _still_ yelling at him from across the hall-

"I could have been your _greatest adventure_…"

He elbowed his attacker in the gut, swung around-

"KALIMA!" Fenris bellowed, reaching out and ripping his enemy's heart out, offering it up to the goddess amidst the droning chanting of the faithful-

"Oh Fenny," Hawke giggled, leaning in to kiss him- and instead screeched in his face as they were both drenched in water from an elephant.

"Oh my," mini-Merrill cooed, clapping her hands as she sat astride the animal. "That was rather humorous."

* * *

><p>Fenris awoke with a start, sitting up in bed and looking around quickly, assessing his surroundings.<p>

He was in Varric's suite, seemingly having collapsed on the dwarf's bed after a night of gambling and drinking with the group.

He yawned, stretched, and rolled out of bed.

"Mmm, sweet thing, come back to bed," an all-too-familiar voice purred.

Fenris froze, and then slowly turned to look back, eyes widening in horror as he realized, quite suddenly, that he and his bedmate were naked.

Anders beamed up at him, and winked.

* * *

><p>Fenris awoke <em>again<em>, this time with a bloodcurdling shriek.

"I didn't know you could reach that pitch, Elf," a deep voice said, and Fenris whirled to stare wildly at Varric, who was in his normal seat at the table.

"Are you a dream?" he asked warily, reaching down to his thigh and pinching himself. "Ouch."

"Some women would think so," Varric said easily. "Probably has to do with my smooth moves, pleasing tongue, and of course the chest hair."

"Oh thank the Maker you are the real Varric," Fenris sighed, falling back with a thump onto the bed.

"Dreams?"

"Yes, then a nightmare. I thought I had awoken from the dream, but instead it was another dream, this one rather horrifying."

"What could make a stoic, hard-core warrior like you screech like a little girl?" Varric asked, obviously entranced.

Fenris grunted. "I dare not repeat it, lest the universe is torn asunder by such an atrocity being voiced."

The dwarf let out a chuckle. "Who did you end up in bed with?"

Fenris didn't answer, and he stormed out of Varric's suite, past a cooing Isabella, and out of the Hanged Man.


	11. Illiteracy

**_AN: Sorry for hardly any updates on this (or any others) but I was bitten by a certain bug over on a certain DA kmeme, and it's currently eating my soul. I'll post that when I have more of it finished. For now, here's another installment of Snapshots, with a plea for patience._**

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><p>Fenris wasn't really one to complain on most things (mages and the dangers of magic being the few exceptions) but sometimes, a man had to vent.<p>

He honestly did not need that many things to keep him happy; a full belly and a protected back made him happy enough. However, being here had spoiled him in terms of conversing with others. He had started to vent more, and Hawke was normally his friendly ear, but when the frustration came from the woman herself

It wasn't really worth the frustration, he thought dully. She just didn't know, hardly anyone else that hadn't gone through what he had could understand.

They had been out, him, Hawke, the blood mage, and Aveline. They had been finishing up some errands when Hawke had received a short note from a contact in the Gallows that sold odd and rare ingredients for potions.

"Alright, I know where to find three of the four, the last one I haven't heard of," she sighed, glancing up. "Fenris, you go look this up at the library near the Viscount's Keep, and we'll go grab the rest of the ingredients." She shoved the note into his hand, not noticing his frozen form, and dashed off with the other two in tow.

This wasn't the first solo mission Hawke had given him; the last one a few weeks back involved killing slavers and drawing their attention away from the group of slaves they were preparing to ship off to Tevinter so Hawke and Isabella could pick the lock and evacuate them. He didn't really care about the slaves; they were just a consequence of killing the slavers, which he thoroughly enjoyed. One less slaver didn't mean a better world – it just meant that he had one less slaver on his trail, and one more annoyance to drive his former master insane.

It figured, he thought bitterly, (as he stormed off towards the Keep) that she would send him to a library for research when he couldn't even read. Anything else she could have asked him (short of actual magic) he could have, and would have, done happily. But this?

What a fool he was.

He spent the next hour in that damned place, pretending to know what he was looking for, ignoring the askance looks the nobles would give him or the fearful ones from the workers. He would pull books from the shelves at random, flip a few pages, scowl at the teasing scribbles, and then put it back where he found it.

"You do realize that while Hawke might be an idiot, I am not."

He stilled, and then turned to look at the stern woman behind him. "Aveline."

"Fenris," she replied, stepping closer and looking at the book he had in hand. "We're in the wrong section," she said quietly. She jerked her head, indicating another dusty shelf. "Come. I'll lend a hand."

"I don't need your-"

"You do," Aveline interjected sharply. "It's not shameful to ask for help, especially when you can't read, Fenris."

He flushed, glancing aside quickly. "I haven't had the time or the chance to learn. Slaves are not permitted such things."

"I understand that," Aveline said, a bit softer this time. "And if you wish, I won't tell anyone about it. But it doesn't make you less than any of us because you can't do scribes' work."

Fenris nodded, and with encouragement, climbed one of the ladders and started handing down books that the guardswoman indicated.

"How did you find out?" he asked, curious.

"Common sense piped up when I saw the look on your face after Hawke told you what to do," Aveline said, flipping through a tome. "You didn't look particularly happy."

"I was under the impression everyone thought I never looked happy."

"You don't, save for a few times when you're with Hawke," Aveline replied, handing the book back and motioning him down. "But in this case you looked particularly bitter. It took me five minutes of pondering to figure out what was wrong, and so here I am."

"Hawke is alone with the blood mage?" Fenris asked sharply.

"No," the woman sighed. "They already completed what needed to be done. Merrill is back home, and Hawke went to see Anders about something."

"I see," he said stiffly.

"No," Aveline snapped. "I doubt you do. Come on, let's go find her before that mage gets her into more trouble. Every time they talk, she always ends up doing something incredibly stupid that could endanger her safety in this Templar infested city, and he just encourages her. Anders is on the top of my List."

"List?"

"Of people to watch, of course."

At least in this, he thought as he strapped his weapon to his back and followed her out, he and Aveline were in agreement.


	12. Meditatio Suppressio

Chapter 11 Meditatio Suppressio

**AN: Fenris' meditation is a mixture of the Jedi code from the Star Wars universe, a prayer for the warrior spirit I found on a pagan website, a bit of the old Bushido code, some stuff I wish was still important in this day and age and a small dash of Buddhism. If you read the codex on this grumpy elf, it does mention that he meditates and tries to control his pain in 'unguarded moments'.**

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><p><em>There is no chaos…<em>

Fenris breathed in deeply, and held it. His mansion, as always, was silent save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind blowing through the broken window and caressing the shredded curtains.

_There is a peace inside me that no one can remove._

He could feel the stillness of his mansion, a stillness that enfolds and shields him from the onslaught of rapid palpitations of real life outside its walls. Beneath the cold flagstones of the floor, down through the rotting wood in the cellar, he could feel the pulse of the earth around Kirkwall.

_I control my mind, my thoughts, my sword. No one can take this from me._

Fenris slowly let his breath out, eyes falling closed as he fell deeper into his meditation.

_I control my arm. I will not harm another who would not harm me._

He focused on the ever-present pain; the dull, slow throbbing of his markings, and drew on the pain, focusing sharply on it, drawing strength from the pain, and then dismissing it just as surely. The energy from the pain makes his next statement sharper, more sure sounding.

_I am loyal to my allies. No one will make me turn on them._

Varric, Aveline, Carver and Hawke's face floated through his mind, and with a happy hum of contentment, his pain slowly drained away. He felt…normal, he supposed. The pain was dulled further, no more painful than an old battle wound.

_I control my heart. No one will make me cower again._

Hadrianna, Danarius, and other lesser known faces appeared before his mind's eye, and he let them wander where they would before dismissing them as well. He drew again on his hatred, feeding it and nursing it, letting it warm his chest and heart.

_I control my spirit. No one can remove my will._

If he concentrated hard enough, and long enough, he could feel other beings as they walked outside his mansion, going about their daily errands and completely unaware that he was _aware_ of them.

_I am my own person. No one will remove me._

There was no pain- there was only him, as himself, by himself, in the wide empty world. In that single moment of peace and clarity, he was not Fenris, the escaped slave. He was more than that. He was…himself. Without the added layers of hostility and pragmatism, he simply…was. It was wonderful, to just _be_, to embrace the moment, to-

"_**Run, elf. We will hold off the magister."**_

And with that echo from the past, his serenity was shattered, and Fenris was brought back abruptly to the present, heart beating fast and erratically in his heaving chest. The pain was back, along with everything that is wrong with him; pain, fear, anger, and a deep loneliness he had no hope of alleviating.

He heard footsteps behind him, and with a ragged snarl, he turned, sword already in hand and arcing towards the intruder-

-only to be stopped by twin blades and it was Isabella who was gazing at him in a mixture of concern and bemusement.

"Didn't mean to startle you sweet thing," she said slowly, lowering their entwined blades and taking a small step back. Fenris dropped his weapon, still breathing heavily. His body felt like one giant pulse of pain, and it was…more distracting and irritating than usual.

She sheathed her weapons, and offered him a cursory glance over. "If you need to work out all that tension, I think you'll enjoy going below my decks, if you know what I-"

"OUT!" Fenris roared, and the rouge pirate ducked the thrown wine bottle with a curse.

"Fenris, what in blazes-"

"GET OUT!" he bellowed, already throwing another, and another. Even after Isabella danced out the door and slammed it shut, he kept throwing them. When he ran out of bottles, he started throwing the leftover books and papers, and then the meager furniture.

When he had nothing more to throw, he strapped his armor back on, snatched up his weapon, and stormed out into the night towards Lowtown.

Whoever he met tonight, whoever foolishly engaged him would not live to see sunrise.


	13. Chase

_**A little update to celebrate finals being over for me. I recently came across some information in regard to cut content to the DA II game, and was surprised and amused to see that there was originally a quest where you had to deal with the Templars that were after Hawke (or Bethany). It was cut for some reason, so I decided to have a go at it. It sort of ran away from me though, so I apologize. Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p>It was his lot in life to suffer, Fenris decided tiredly.<p>

"Fenris! Hurry, before they catch up!"

He had thought, naively, that he would have a nice, quiet day at his mansion, alone and licking his wounds from his previous mission with Hawke. His muscles were still sore from the fight, the wounds, and the subsequent use of healing magic from Anders. Everything just hurt, and he was weary of it, plain and simple. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a chair by his fireplace and drink wine throughout the whole day, doing absolutely nothing.

Instead, Hawke had visited, bringing unintended guests with her.

"So this is why you are trying to get on the expedition for the Deep Roads?" he panted.

"Yes, well, Templars are funny like that," she replied, taking a sharp turn into an alley and dragging the elf with her, the jangling sound of metal not far behind them. "They see something that sparkles or burn, and they just can't let it go. Like Varric with a good book."

"What did you do exactly?" Fenris asked.

"Oh, it was nothing. Really, it was…well, that's a lie. I may have yelled at Carver this morning and may have said that if he didn't shut up, I might set his hair on fire. When he proceeded to ignore my warning, I may have actually set his pants on fire." As she said this, she yanked him into a doorway, holding him against her and motioning for him to be quiet. He almost disobeyed; he was fighting with two different impulses, one that screamed at him to leap away from such direct contact while the other demanded he advance further.

The jangle of armor grew louder, and he stilled. A group of four Templars ran past, intent on where they thought the apostate had gone.

Despite their current situation, and their current closeness, Fenris couldn't resist cocking an eyebrow at her. "That's a lot of supposed happenstance, Hawke."

"Isn't it?"

"And where is your hot-headed brother at this moment?"

"Probably at home, holding mother off from trying to find me on her own," Hawke grumbled, leading them into a crowd of passing guardsmen. The guards looked at them for a moment before apparently dismissing them, chatting quietly amongst themselves.

"And where are we going?" he asked, feeling edgy with so many strange people so close.

"The one place they would never, ever go," Hawke smirked.

Five minutes later, Fenris was cursing up a storm as the mage led him through the Blooming Rose.

He fumed as she spoke with the Madame, pointedly ignoring the whores who dared look his way. This early in the day, there were few customers about, and most of the workers were either milling about relaxing or getting ready for when business would pick up.

"Where are we going now?" he snapped when Hawke again grabbed him, this time following after the Madame.

"She's giving us a room until they give up."

Fenris halted in his steps, unintentionally yanking Hawke back. "What."

The mage huffed, looking up at him with a frown. "She's giving us a room."

"I got that."

"To hide out until this blows over."

"I got that as well."

"What don't you get?"

"Why are we doing this?" Fenris growled. "We could just as easily slip out the back-"

"-and right into their hands," Hawke interrupted. "Come come, she promised it was clean."

And that explained why he was currently in a gaudily decorated bedroom, with Hawke spread out on the large bed, reading a book of all things while she kicked her legs up behind her, swinging them up and down, occasionally tapping the mattress. He stood stiffly by the door, not entirely comfortable with the situation.

"Fenris, the bed is clean," Hawke sighed after a moment, patting the empty space beside her. "It'll be a while. Why don't you make yourself comfortable?"

"That's alright," he said quickly, turning away as the edge of her robe slipped, barring her ankles.

Such tiny, delicate looking things, her ankles. He wondered if they were as soft as they appeared, if she would sigh or giggle if he brushed a kiss over them-

"Why are you blushing?"

_Because for some reason the sight of your bare ankles makes me completely flustered, Hawke._

Of course, he didn't say that.

"Just…it's warm. In this room. That's all."

"Is it?" Hawke asked lightly, turning back to her book. "I thought it was a little chilly myself. Are you sure you don't want to join me? I'll scoot all the way over, so you'll have plenty of space."

He considered for a moment. He was still sore, the running around had not helped matters, and the bed _did_ look comfortable…

"Very well."

Hawke happily scooted closer to the edge of the bed, leaving Fenris a fair chunk of the mattress. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto his stomach, a soft sigh escaping his lips as the bed held him up, easing some of his burden.

"I ruined your day off, didn't I?" Hawke asked after a moment of silence.

Fenris opened his eyes, turning his head to look over at his current bed mate only an arms' length away. "Well, we haven't had our pockets picked, and we avoided a fight, so it's not completely ruined," he reasoned.

"Oh. That's good," the mage decided, turning a page in her book. "How are you, by the way? Still sore from yesterday?"

Fenris saw no reason to lie. "Yes, yes I am."

"Want me to give you a massage? It'll help your muscles relax."

He paused, truly tempted.

"I…don't think that would be a good idea," he said regretfully after a moment. "Thank you for the offer though."

"Any time, Fenris."

She turned another page, and Fenris looked at the book curiously. He couldn't read the title, of course, but it did have a picture on the front, a man and a woman, locked in an embrace and-

He nearly fell off the bed. "Hawke!"

"What?"

"Why are you…what is…"

"Oh, this?" Hawke said, looking at him and holding up the book disinterestedly. "It's no good Fenris, I promise. It's all just pictures, no plot or anything. Although I think this one looks very interesting-"

* * *

><p>"So…let me get this straight," Varric said, sitting back in his chair for a moment as he contemplated the elf before him. "She led you on a chase throughout Kirkwall."<p>

"Yes."

"She then proceeded to take you to a whore house."

"Yes."

"Where she got a private room for the both of you."

"Yes."

"And you were in bed with her-"

"On my side of the bed, with my clothing on," Fenris interjected firmly.

"And you blew a gasket because she was looking at dirty pictures?"

"People should **_not_ **be able to bend like that."

"You know what Broody? Forget it," Varric sighed, scratching out a block on text on his parchment. "For the sake of your reputation, I'm leaving that story out. No one wants to hear about a loner elf and rebellious former slave with a voice of sex freaking out over a few naughty pictures."

Fenris cocked an eyebrow. "'Voice of sex'?"

"Hmm….how about a voice that's smoky, and like dark chocolate?" Varric asked, smiling happily as he wrote down his ideas. "Mysterious, smooth, but with a healthy dose of 'bitter resentment towards my former master'?"

"That's enough for me for one day," Fenris said, standing and leaving Varric's suite.

Varric snorted at the elf's departure. "No literary sense, that one. Oh well." He paused, nibbling on the end of his quill for a moment before starting over.

_"'And so the rebellious fugitive took his lady to the bed, where he proceeded to show her just how flexible a person could really be…'"_


End file.
